


The Troublesome Patient

by SHIELDAgentMD



Series: Agents of SHIELD - Episodes [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bed Rest, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fanfiction, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHIELDAgentMD/pseuds/SHIELDAgentMD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story contains corporal discipline (spanking) between two adult females.  If that is not your thing, no problem… go no further.</p><p>This is a fanfic based upon the incredible television series, Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.  This story takes place in the second season, between Episode 11 – Aftershocks, and Episode 12 – Who You Really Are.  Jemma falls ill, but the little workaholic can’t seem to let herself rest.  May and Bobbi fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Troublesome Patient

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as I am battling a brutal cold myself right now, it seems a highly appropriate time to share this story. This is one of my personal favorites from my works, centered mostly around Jemma and Bobbi Morse. I sincerely hope that you enjoy it, and if you do, please leave me Kudos or a comment! If not, well... I'm sick so you still have to be nice. ;)
> 
> Updated 12/16/15. Now contains 65% more feels. ;) Happy Reading!

**Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD**

**The Troublesome Patient**

**This story takes place in the second season, between Episode 11 – Aftershocks, and Episode 12 – Who You Really Are.**

 

This story contains corporal discipline (spanking) between two adult females.  If that is not your thing, no problem… go no further.

This is a fanfic based upon the incredible television series, Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.  Every character referred to is directly from the show/Marvel Universe, and I hold NO claim to the characters or the plotlines of the episodes that many of my stories are based on.  I *highly* recommend watching the episodes before reading these stories, as many references to events in the episodes will be made, and therefore, better understood.

All writing in  _italics_  is script/plotline directly from the show, and is the sole property of the writers/producers.

 

Summary:  Jemma falls ill, but the little workaholic can’t seem to let herself rest.  May and Bobbi fix that.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Through the quiet darkness comes a knock on the door…

 

Jemma rolls over.  “Come in,” she says, hoarsely.

 

The door to her bunk slides open and Fitz sticks his head in.  “Jemma… what are you doing?  It’s 7:30.”

 

Jemma jerks up, mid-stretch.  “I… what?!” she exclaims, flying out of bed.  Her hands fly to her head as she feels it throb.  “Ow…”

 

Fitz smirks slightly.  “Yeah, you-you got up awfully fast there,” he teases.  “See you in the lab.”

 

Jemma rubs her temples as she watches Fitz leave, then grabs up her alarm clock.  She examines it for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing.  “What on Earth…?”

 

A quick study of it shows her that she must have woken up briefly and turned it off, then fallen right back to sleep.  She has never done that before.  Simmons has always been an early riser, and has no problem waking with her alarm.  Shaking her head, she sets the alarm back down and quickly begins to dress.

 

Five minutes later Simmons hurries down to the lab.  As she passes Agent Morse doing her morning workout in the garage, Morse looks at her, confused.  She pointedly checks her watch, then raises her eyebrows at the girl.

 

“Good morning, Agent Morse,” Jemma says sheepishly.  “I… I seem to have overslept a bit.  I’m sorry,” she adds, then quickly turns and heads into the lab. 

 

Bobbi’s eyes follow Simmons as she puts on her lab coat and dives right into her work. 

 

“So… you have a hard time sleeping last night?” Fitz asks conversationally.

 

Simmons shrugs.  “I don’t think so.  As far as I know I slept rather soundly,” she replies, though this is a lie.  She had barely slept at all, as she was too immersed in the study of Raina's transformation.  She tries not to let this distract her as she pours half a cup of hydrogen peroxide into a beaker.  The fumes from it make her cough heavily.

 

Fitz approaches, meticulously shaving down a metal vial.  “You know… I think it still smells in here a bit from the… hey, are-are you all right?”

 

Simmons was rubbing her temples again.  As Fitz looked closer at her he noticed that she had broken into a light sweat, her forehead and cheeks glistening a bit. 

 

“What?  Oh… oh, I’m all right, Fitz.  Just a headache.” Simmons says, forcing a smile at him and focusing again on the tablet with Raina’s DNA readings.

 

Fitz clearly still has his doubts however, and he waves to Agent Morse through the glass.

 

As Bobbi enters the lab, she hears Fitz say, “Jemma, you don’t look well.  Maybe you should sit down.”

 

Simmons hadn’t seen Bobbi enter the lab as she is now peering through her microscope.  “I’m fine, Fitz, stop fussing.  We have far too much work to…”

 

“Jemma?”

 

Simmons looks up suddenly and sees Morse standing next to her, looking concerned.  She gives Fitz a brief glare, then smiles up at Bobbi.  “Yes, Agent Morse?”

 

Bobbi looks closer at her as well, and sees the bags under Jemma’s eyes and the sweat glistening on her face.  “Are you feeling all right, honey?”

 

Simmons lowers her head, trying to hide any reaction to the flicker of pain behind her sinuses.  “Yes, ma’am… I’m fine,” she repeats.

 

Bobbi sighs.  “You are still a lousy liar, Jemma,” she states, matter-of-factly.  “Come here.”

 

Simmons looks up again, with a sigh of her own.  “I’m all right, really.  I just have a headache, that’s all.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Morse responds, clearly not listening.  She looks into Simmons’ watery eyes and pulls her in close, brushing her lips across Jemma’s forehead.  “You’re really warm,” she murmurs, placing her hands on Jemma’s cheeks.  She prods underneath Simmons’ jaw, moving downward from her ears.  Simmons fails to hide her wince.

 

“Jemma, your lymph nodes are swollen.  You must be sick.”

 

Simmons takes a step back, rubbing her throat and gives a quiet scoff.  “No, I… that’s nonsense.  I feel all right,” she insists.

 

Morse shakes her head at the stubborn girl and easily lifts her up, sitting her on the medical table.  Without a word, Fitz approaches and offers Bobbi a small flashlight and a thermometer.  Morse grins at him.  “Thanks.”

 

Simmons however shoots him another glare and mutters sarcastically, “Oh yes, thank you very much, Fitz.”

 

Morse ignores this.  “Open up and say, ‘ah’,” she commands.

 

Simmons obeys reluctantly.  Bobbi shines the flashlight inside Jemma’s mouth and sighs.  “Just as I thought.  Red and raw.”  Simmons groans quietly.

 

Simmons submits to being poked and prodded for the next few minutes.  After determining that her blood pressure and oxygen saturation are fine, Bobbi next listens to Jemma’s lungs.  She shakes her head as she can hear a wheeze when Simmons breathes deeply. 

 

Last but not least, Morse holds the thermometer up.  Simmons frowns and gently pushes the thermometer away.  “Agent Morse, please, I’m f…”

 

Bobbi gives the back of Simmons’ hand a light smack.  “Open up… now,” she commands with a warning look.

 

Simmons gulps, which hurts, and opens her mouth again obediently. 

 

“Good girl,” Morse murmurs with a soft smile.  She places the thermometer under Simmons’ tongue and gently taps the scientist’s chin.  Jemma closes her mouth, looking miserable.

 

Morse smiles again at the little waif and places her hands on Jemma’s thighs.  “Wow… you know, for a doctor, you sure are a troublesome little patient.”

 

Simmons attempts to respond, but Morse places a finger to her lips.  “Uh-uh… not til that’s done,” she says, nodding toward the thermometer.  Jemma whines.

 

The thermometer beeps a few seconds later, and Jemma hurries to take it out.  Bobbi beats her to it though and smacks her hand away again.  “No… naughty girl,” she mutters, taking the thermometer and looking down at it.

 

“102.6.  You have a fever, my dear.”

 

“Oh… oh, that’s no problem.  I’ll just take some medicine,” Simmons says cheerfully, sliding down off the table.

 

Morse grabs Simmons’ arm, fighting the urge to swat her.  She looks into Jemma’s eyes and says, “yes.  You will take some medicine.  Then you will go back to your bunk, lie down and rest.”

 

“Nooo… no, please, Agent Morse.” Simmons pleads.  “I have far too much work to do, I can’t just…”

 

“You can, and you will.  Don’t argue with me, Jemma.” Morse states firmly, sending Simmons on with a light warning swat.

 

Bobbi watches Simmons carefully as she crosses to the medicine cabinet.  Jemma pours herself a spoonful of dark purple liquid and drinks it with a shutter.

 

Simmons coughs, and Morse can hear the wheeze behind it.  She frowns, then glances to the door, where Agent May has silently walked in.  May takes one look at Fitz and Morse, both standing with their arms crossed over their chests and watching Jemma.  She pauses, blinks, and asks, “what’s going on in here?”

 

Fitz speaks up.  “Jemma’s sick.  It’s sounding a bit like bronchitis.”

 

Simmons glares at him yet again.  “Oh Fitz, don’t be ridiculous.  It-it’s just a cold, it’s no big d…”

 

May ignores her and turns to Morse.  “Does she have a fever?”

 

Bobbi nods.  “Over 102.  I’ve told her that she needs to spend the day in bed, but she’s being quite the stubborn little patient.”

 

May’s eyes flash and she immediately stalks over to Jemma, who takes a nervous step back.  With a blur of movement, May grabs Jemma’s arm, turns her around, and plants several firm swats on the scientist’s backside.  “Jemma… Go. To. Your. Room,” she commands, emphasizing each word with a smack.

 

Simmons squirms and gasps, causing her to cough again.  May turns her back around, taking Jemma’s chin in her hand.  “Go rest.  Right now.  We’ll be checking on you shortly,” she tells her, in a softer voice.

 

Simmons doesn’t have the energy to argue, but instead hangs her head, dejected.  “Yes, ma’am.”  She skirts around May and heads to her workstation, gathering up a few items and a stack of papers.

 

Both May and Morse straighten up at once, but with a glance at Bobbi, May nods and steps back again.

 

“Jemma, no.  No work.  You’re going up to rest.  Your work can wait,” Morse commands, though gently.

 

Simmons looks up at her Superior Officers pleadingly, but upon seeing the dangerous look on May’s face, she sighs and sets her work back down.  “Yes, ma’am,” she mutters again, and with one furious look at Fitz, she heads out.

 

May heads out as well, shaking her head.  Morse turns to Fitz and smiles at him.  “Thank you, for alerting me.  She is certainly keen on her work, isn’t she?”

 

Fitz nods.  “Yeah.  I knew something was wrong when she didn’t turn up this morning.”

 

Bobbi glances at the pile that Simmons had attempted to take with her.  “Fitz… whatever she’s working on… it *can* wait, right?  Or should we seek some extra help?”

 

Fitz walks over and looks through it.  He sees a large file that Simmons has been compiling on the tests regarding the changes in Raina’s DNA.  He then hears a beep and glances at the tablet sitting next to the papers, which showed his supposed ‘simulation’ of a similar DNA structure, but was actually Skye’s new biometrics.  His breath catches… though he recovers quickly.  Apparently Jemma had been hoping to bring it along and study it.  He shuts down the tablet and flicks through the rest of the papers.  “Oh, no.  There’s no rush on any of this.  It’s fine.”

 

Bobbi nods.  “Okay.  And… this illness.  You don’t think it could be related to the tunnels in any way?”  she asks nervously, in barely over a whisper.

 

At this, Fitz can answer more confidently.  “No.  With all of her other vitals unaffected, I’d say this is a virus from Earth.”

 

Bobbi sighs with relief and smiles at Fitz again.  She pats him on the shoulder then heads out.

 

Fitz watches her go, then returns to the tablet.  Cursing himself for leaving it out and about in plain view, he quickly stashes it in a cabinet of old archived data, then returns nonchalantly to filing down the vial.

 

**………………**

Simmons made her way back up to her bunk.  With a sigh at the thought of being bored out of her mind in bed, she nonetheless appreciates the thought of changing back into her pajamas.  The throbbing in her head has eased up somewhat, and she’s sure that everyone is making a big fuss over nothing.  The medicine will bring down her fever… meanwhile, there was nothing else to worry about.

 

Just as she reaches her door Simmons looks across to the Command Center and has a naughty thought indeed.  She glances up and down the corridor.  Finding it empty, she tip-toes across to the large screen and silently turns it on.  Pulling up the Bus’ security feeds, she scans them carefully.  May is back in the cockpit, Coulson is in his office, Skye, Hunter and Morse are in the dining room, and she just catches Mack and Fitz leaving the garage, presumably heading toward base.  "Perfect,” Jemma whispers, grinning. 

 

She switches off the screen and heads back to the spiral staircase as quickly as she can.  The determined biochemist tip-toes down it, makes sure the coast is still clear, then hurries into the lab.  She resists a cough until the doors close behind her, then tries to stifle it in her elbow.  Annoyed, she rushes to the pile of papers and scoops them up.  Jemma then glances around for the tablet, frowning in confusion.  ‘I know I left it right here…’  She knows she doesn’t have time to search though, so she lets it go. 

 

Grinning mischievously, Jemma heads back up the spiral staircase.  Relieved to find the corridor still empty, she hurries back to her room, more flushed and glistening now.  With a triumphant grin, she quickly slides her door back open… only to find Agent Morse seated on her bed.

 

Simmons’ heart plummets.  The offending stack of papers drops to the floor with a heavy thud.  Avoiding her S.O.’s stare, as heavy as it is, Jemma quickly kneels to gather the papers. 

 

Morse remains silent for a minute until Jemma slowly straightens back up.  She frowns deeply, looking at the pile of papers in Jemma’s hands.  The supervising officer sighs with disappointment and finally says, “I brought you a water bottle, and some orange juice.”  She points to them on Simmons’ bedside table.

 

“Th-thank you,” Simmons murmurs tremulously toward the floor.  She doesn’t dare make a move yet though.

 

“Jemma,” Morse begins, shaking her head.  “What did I tell you to do?”

 

Simmons gulps, wincing as it hurts her throat.  “You told me to-to come to bed and… and rest.”

 

Bobbi nods.  She lifts Jemma’s chin with her finger.  “And why did I tell you to do that?” she asks softly.

 

Simmons shifts guiltily.  “Because… I am a bit under the weather, and…”

 

“No… no, Jemma.  People don’t usually have a fever or swollen glands when they are ‘under the weather’.  You’re sick.  You’re a doctor.  You know this,” she states sternly.  Jemma hangs her head again… then sneezes.

 

Morse sighs, swayed to pity for the miserable looking girl.  “Get changed,” she instructs, taking the pile of papers from Simmons.  Bobbi sets them aside, then turns and pulls back the blankets on Jemma’s bed. 

 

Simmons sighs dejectedly and changes back into her pajamas.  Before pulling up her soft blue cotton pants, she receives a hard swat on her rear end.  Jemma grimaces and pulls her pants up quickly before any more can follow. 

 

Morse props up Jemma’s pillow and holds the blankets up for her.  “Climb in.”

 

Simmons sniffles and crawls into bed.  She sits up slightly as Morse pulls up her blankets and hands her the glass of orange juice.  Simmons sighs, and obediently takes a large gulp.  Bobbi brushes Jemma’s hair back from her damp forehead, concerned at how warm she still is.

 

Morse pulls back and looks into Simmons’ eyes.  “Jemma, your work…” she nods toward the papers.  “…can wait.  You are to stay here and rest for the rest of the day, at least.  If I catch you working, or catch you anywhere other than your room or the restroom, I will tan your little hide.  Do you understand me?” Bobbi asks, in a warning tone.

 

Simmons sniffles again, and nods.

 

“Good.  I should be paddling you right now, for disobeying me,” she adds, nodding toward the papers again.  She shakes her head and pats Jemma’s leg, then whispers, “You’re just lucky you’re so adorable.”

 

Simmons manages a small smile and takes another sip of juice before laying further down under her covers.  Bobbi tucks her in and strokes her warm cheek before whispering, “don’t tell May I’m being so soft with you.”

 

Jemma smiles again and shakes her head.  “Oh, no, ma’am.  I wouldn’t do that,” she assures her, then coughs heavily again and turns onto her side.

 

Morse sighs again, then places a small flesh-colored earpiece on Simmons’ bedside table.  “I’ll be available on comms.  If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

 

Simmons nods.  “Yes, ma’am.  Thank you.”

 

Bobbi gathers up all the papers, giving Jemma a pointed look, then heads out.

 

Simmons sighs again, curls up, and is asleep within moments.

 

**……………**

 

About two hours later, Bobbi checks in on Jemma.  She slides open her door quietly after there is no response to her knock, and peeks in to find her still sleeping soundly.  She smiles softly at the innocent sight, and heads off again.

**……………**

 

Another two hours later, Jemma is awake… and bored, but keeping busy.  She has been up for about an hour, visited the restroom, and read a bit of a novel.  Her headache has improved slightly, but she is coughing even more now, which further upsets her already sore throat.

 

May knocks quietly on the door, and enters carrying another glass of juice and a bowl of vegetable soup.  Simmons sits up, manages a small smile at Agent May and thanks her for the provisions.  The quiet, stoic agent nods and places a hand on Jemma’s forehead.  Without a change in expression, she pulls out the thermometer and holds it up expectantly in front of Simmons.  “Now… I know that you’re going to behave for me… aren’t you?” she asks, in her slightly dangerous voice.  Jemma just nods, defeated.  May hands her the thermometer, and watches expectantly as the young scientist places it under her tongue.  They both wait, and finally the beep sounds. 

 

Jemma waits carefully before reacting, but it seems that May is going to let her read it.  She takes the thermometer out, looks at it, and reports, “101.1, exactly.”  May nods and pulls the bottle of purple medicine from a pocket.  “Go on then.  You’re supposed to take it every 4 hours that you have a fever.”  Jemma knew this already, of course, and obediently drinks another spoonful. 

 

Finally giving Simmons a small smile, May nods with a quiet, “good girl,” and hands her the bowl of soup.  “Do you need anything else?” she asks.

 

Simmons holds the hot bowl of soup, warming her cold hands.  She thinks for a minute, then says carefully, almost as if it could be a joke, “how about some of my lab notes?”

 

May gives her a *look*.  Simmons chokes in the midst of swallowing a spoonful of soup.  Melinda sighs and says flatly, “no.  Anything else?”

 

Dejected once again, Simmons replies, “no, ma’am.  Thank you.  How is Skye?” she asks, unable to shake her concern for her friend and colleague.

 

May softens a bit at the question.  “She’s fine, don’t worry.  She’s happy to be out of quarantine, she’s settled back into her bunk and we all have an eye on her.  Okay?”

 

Simmons nods gratefully, looking relieved and settles in to continue eating her soup.

 

May nods.  “Don’t worry about her for now.  Just take care of you.  Someone will be back to check on you again later.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”  Jemma nods her acknowledgement, and May leaves the room.  Jemma sighs, but enjoys the rest of her meal, especially the feeling of the hot, soothing soup on her very sore throat.  After lunch she does a bit more reading, then takes another nap.

 

**…………………………**

 

Upon waking again about 2 hours later, Simmons is feeling slightly better at last, and is starting to feel stir-crazy.

 

She tries reading again, but it just isn’t doing enough to satisfy her very busy mind.  Setting the book aside, she pulls out her tablet from the drawer of her bedside table, thinking she can watch a video or send her mum and dad an e-mail.  As she turns it on though, she realizes… she can access some of her work on this! 

 

Excitedly, she lets it load, then accesses her e-mail in which she had sent some specs to HQ through.  She waits impatiently for them to load, then dives right in. 

 

Within minutes, she found more changes… impossible changes… in Raina’s recorded DNA from the incident in the temple ruins.  Simmons grabs a pad of paper and a pencil and begins jotting notes down furiously, ignoring her returning headache.  She puzzles over the data for several minutes, but finds that without her research and equipment, the mystery is too much for her.  Weighing her options, given that SHIELD has fallen, Jemma decides that the only person she can trust with her questions is Agent Weaver. 

 

Using the tablet, Jemma sends Agent Weaver a request for a videochat.  While waiting for a response, she continues making notes and jotting down the questions she needs to ask.

 

Agent Morse returns to check on Jemma, happening to quietly slide open her door just as Simmons coughs several times.  Morse catches view of Jemma’s notes and raises her eyebrows.  She steps into the room, a cup of tea in her hands. 

 

Simmons looks up suddenly, simultaneously attempting to hide her notes under the blankets.  “Oh!  Hello, Agent Morse,” she says nervously. 

 

“Hello, Jemma,” Bobbi responds, sliding the door shut behind her.  “What are you up to?”

 

Simmons quickly presses the Home screen button on her tablet surreptitiously, then holds it briefly up.  “Oh, you know… resting.  Just playing a bit of Candy Crush,” she invents.  She coughs, then looks at the tea and adds quickly, “Oh tea… that would be absolutely lovely,” she adds, a little too cheerfully.

 

Bobbi sets the tea down.  “It needs to steep for about 10 minutes.”  She takes Simmons tablet from her and scans through the available apps.  She doesn’t see Candy Crush anywhere.  “So, what level are you on?  Let me see.”

 

Simmons flushes, and shrugs.  “Oh, um… I’m not very far along yet,” she claims, carefully taking the tablet back.

 

Suddenly, a voice can be heard from the tablet.  “Jemma?  So nice to get your call.  Listen… this analysis of this person’s DNA… it’s unprecedented.  The changes in DNA sequences… can you be sure that this is accurate?  … Jemma?”

 

Jemma stammers, glancing down at Agent Weaver, then up at Agent Morse.  “I… I…”

 

“Jemma, dear?  Are you all right?” comes Agent Weaver’s concerned voice.  “You did just call me for feedback, didn’t you?”

 

Bobbi frowns and holds out her hand.  Jemma miserably hands the tablet over.  Bobbi looks into it and addresses Agent Weaver.  “Hello.  I’m Bobbi Morse, SHIELD agent 8R652.  I am Jemma’s S.O.  I’m afraid that she is in trouble right now and can’t chat.  She’ll have to call you back.”

 

Agent Weaver blinks in surprise, but then nods her understanding.  “I see.  I’m surprised at you, Jemma,” she calls.

 

Bobbi hands Simmons the tablet again, and the girl sheepishly apologizes and says, ‘good-bye’ to her former professor.  Clicking the tablet off, Jemma silently holds it up to her S.O. 

 

Agent Morse takes it and sets it aside.  She then leans over Jemma to fetch the notes that the girl had been working on from under the covers.  Glancing at them, she looks back to Jemma with her eyes narrowed.  “Well, my dear.  That was clearly work, not rest.  And on top of that, you lied to me.  You are in SO much trouble,” she says sternly, almost in disbelief.

 

Simmons shutters at this pronouncement, looking scared and helpless.  Bobbi shakes her head and sits on the edge of the bed.  “First things first.”  She produces the thermometer once more.  “Open up.”

 

Jemma doesn’t dare argue this time, but again obediently opens her mouth and allows the darned thermometer inside. 

 

Bobbi nods, and the two women sit silently until it beeps.  Simmons allows Morse to take the thermometer out, and sighs with some relief when Bobbi reports that it now says, “99.5”.

 

Morse looks relieved, too, and this look prompts Jemma to say timidly, “Agent Morse… I-I seem to be on the mend.  I’m feeling a bit better…”

 

Bobbi looks at her with raised eyebrows.  “Well, that’s good.  Because if you still had a high temperature, I would have to wait to spank the daylights out of you.  It wouldn’t have been nice to have that looming over you, would it?  Fortunately, you’re feeling better, so we can take care of it now.”

 

Simmons turns even paler than she already was.  Her breath catches in her throat, and she suddenly finds herself asking, “you-you would punish me… even when I’m sick?”

 

Bobbi’s eyes flash and she quickly responds, “according to you, you’re not sick!  Now, you’re so desperate to be out of bed, I’ll give you an errand to run.  Agent May is up in Coulson’s office.  Go to her, and tell her I need the paddle.  Bring it back down with you.”

 

Jemma actually chokes.  “What?!  No!  Please, *please* Agent Morse, please don’t send me to M…”

 

But with a firm yank, Bobbi pulls Jemma out of her bed then bends her over, secured at the hip.  She lands a dozen very hard, very fast swats to Jemma’s backside before letting her up and pointing out the door.  “Now, Jemma!” she commands, in a voice that Simmons has never heard before.

 

Simmons scrambles out the door, eager to place a bit of distance between herself and the obviously angry Agent.  She rubs her stinging rear end subconsciously, while contemplating her current situation.  Having to go ask May for the paddle is a very obvious confession that she is in trouble… one that apparently the Director will also bear witness to.  She starts to tremble as she climbs the spiral staircase, knowing that her shame and demise are inevitable… she has no choice.

 

Simmons reaches the top of the stairs, makes her way to Coulson’s doorframe and knocks timidly.  May and Coulson, who seemed to have been poring over some blueprints on the Director’s desk, look up.  May blinks and walks over, looking concerned.  “Simmons?  Are you all right?”  Melinda’s hand immediately goes to Jemma’s forehead. 

 

“Oh… oh, I’m feeling a bit better.  My fever is almost gone,” Simmons reassures her, forcing a small smile.

 

Coulson was watching them, eyebrows furrowed.  “That’s good, Jemma, but you still need to rest.  What are you doing up here?  If you need something, you can always use the comms,” he points out, still looking concerned.

 

Simmons hangs her head as her eyes fill with tears.  This feels like one of the hardest things she’s ever done.  In barely over a whisper she says, “A… Agent Morse has sent me to… to fetch something from you.”  She chances a glance at May, who looks surprised and none too happy.

 

Coulson glances at May, then back to Jemma, confused by her behavior.  “Ok, Jemma.  What is it?” he asks softly.

 

Simmons lets out a sob as tears start to run down her cheeks.  Barely audibly, she gasps out, “the paddle”.

 

May’s eyes flash.  She stares at the very contrite girl before her and takes a deep, steadying breath.  Before she can ask the question that’s on her mind, the Director beats her to it.

 

“I see.  And why does she need the paddle, Jemma?”

 

Simmons’ voice cracks as she answers.  “Sir… she… she found me working after she told me not to,” is all she can manage.

 

May closes her eyes and counts to five before speaking.  “Jemma… you mean to tell me that after both Agent Morse and I told you to stay in bed and rest all day, you deliberately disobeyed us?”  Her voice is once again quiet, but venomous.

 

Simmons sniffles and hastens to say, “no ma’am!  I *was* in bed, and resting… but I was feeling bet…”

 

But Melinda raises a hand for silence, and Jemma, seemingly afraid that May is going to strike her, actually flinches.  May frowns at this, then her expression softens slightly.  She doesn’t like evoking that response in the sweet young woman cowering in front of her.  She knows that she has ‘earned’ that reaction however, and swallows the hurt that it causes.

 

May takes a deep breath, then says sternly, “Jemma, you were instructed not to work today.  To rest and recover.  You disobeyed us both, didn’t you?”

 

Jemma again lets out an involuntary sob.  Hanging her head again and wrapping her slender arms around herself, she nods.

 

Unseen by Simmons, May shakes her head in disappointment.  She then nudges Jemma aside and heads past her, down the spiral staircase.

 

Coulson moves forward and gently lifts Jemma’s chin with his hand.  She looks up at him with fear and guilt in her watery eyes and he softens considerably.  After a moment of thinking, Coulson quietly asks, “Jemma… if Skye or Fitz, or even May or I were sick, what would you recommend?”

 

Simmons blinks and another tear runs down her cheek.  “I… I would recommend fluids and plenty of rest, and medicine, if applicable,” she admits honestly, knowing where he’s going with this.

 

The Director nods, wiping the tear away.  “So, why would you think that that doesn’t apply to you?” he asks, simply.

 

Simmons sniffles and blushes slightly.  Unable to think of an appropriate response, she just shakes her head.

 

Coulson shakes his head too as May reenters the room, paddle in hand.  He sighs, then says, “well, I do believe Agent Morse is going to explain it very thoroughly to you.  I suggest that you don’t keep her waiting.”

 

Jemma nods miserably, wiping tears off her face.  “Y-yes sir.”  She reaches out to accept the paddle from May, but May doesn’t let go of it just yet.  She steps in closer to Simmons and says quietly, “you bring this back up to us when she is done with it.  We may choose to show you our disappointment in your behavior as well”. 

 

With yet another uncontainable sob, Simmons accepts the paddle and nods her understanding before hurrying out of the room.  She can hardly bear the disappointment from every one of her Superior Officers right now.  She coughs several times on her way back down the stairs, and heads straight back to her bunk, ready to get all of this unpleasantness over with. 

 

Bobbi had been waiting patiently, seated on Jemma’s bed.  She had expected the girl’s errand to take some time, as Coulson and May would no doubt question her.  When Jemma steps into the doorframe, her eyes watery and her face streaked with tears, Bobbi’s suspicions are confirmed.  Just as before, her resolve almost melts completely at the site of the miserable little waif, but she simply clears her throat and pushes those feelings aside.  She is Jemma’s S.O. now, and there is business to attend to.

 

Agent Morse holds out her hand, and Jemma delicately steps forward and places the paddle into it.  Bobbi sets the paddle aside and beckons Simmons to her.  A few more tears escape Jemma as she steps directly in front of Morse.  The petite biochemist is about the same height as Bobbi when the latter is sitting down.  Bobbi sighs and hands her a tissue. 

 

After Jemma gratefully mops up her face and daintily blows her nose, Bobbi looks up into the pale face of one of the world’s most brilliant scientists and says, “I’m really sorry, Jemma.  I’m sorry that you made the choices you made today.  If I can’t convince you with words that your health is more important than work, then I will convince you by whatever means I must.”  With that, she slips Simmons’ pajama pants down to her knees and gently tugs her over her lap.

 

To her credit as usual, Jemma does not resist or struggle in any way… but once deposited over her supervising officer’s knees, more tears begin to fall.  She is suffering the guilt of having let down (and been scolded by) so many of the mentors she so greatly admires.  Burying her face in her arms, she just hopes that Agent Morse will commence her punishment right away, so that she can be absolved. 

 

Bobbi does not disappoint on this front.  She pats Jemma’s back a few times, then slips Jemma’s panties down to join her pajama bottoms.  Simmons takes a nervous, shaky breath as Morse wraps her left arm around Jemma’s waist, pinning her into place.  Morse closes her eyes briefly, then with a heavy heart she raises her right hand and brings it down firmly on Jemma’s vulnerable backside. 

 

Simmons only reaction is a sudden gasp.  She soon realizes that Morse learned a lot from Jemma’s last punishment from May… Bobbi was soon spanking her rhythmically and much harder than before. 

 

Morse swallows hard as she continues, somewhat surprised by Simmons’ muted reactions.  She continues steadily for a minute, then ups the intensity further.  Jemma is soon whining and squirming gently, despite her best efforts. 

 

Bobbi finds Jemma’s squirms as adorable as ever, but she forces herself to go on.  “Jemma… I let you off very easily this morning, when you disobeyed me and went back for your work.  I am so, *so* disappointed that, after my warnings, you would choose to disobey me again.”

 

Simmons lets out a sob at this, thinking that she can’t handle any more scolding today.  

 

But Morse goes on, still spanking her firmly.  “I understand, Jemma.  I understand that you’re afraid that you’ll let us down if you get behind on your work.  But… you’re only human, honey,” she says, in a gentler tone.  “Your body is demanding that you rest, and we want you to make that the priority.  Again, you’re a doctor, none of us should have to explain this to you.”

 

Swallowing hard again, Morse continues.  “You have been completely wearing yourself out, Jemma.  You worked in those tunnels around the clock for days.  You’ve been processing Raina’s biometrics and monitoring Skye nonstop.  And… and none of us have had much time to… to grieve for Trip,” Bobbi adds quietly, her voice breaking.

 

Jemma barely feels the fierce smacks being applied to her pink backside as she hears all of this.  She knows that Bobbi is right.  That she has been so desperate not to face that horrible reality that she has been running herself ragged.  She’s also been so obsessed with eradicating these alien biological threats that she hasn’t had a moment’s rest.

 

Simmons begins to cry hard, in earnest, as a million emotions vie for attention within her.  Bobbi senses a change in the young woman and now focuses on applying hard, heavy swats to Jemma’s sensitive sit spots.  Morse allows her to squirm and kick her feet and cry it out, knowing that Jemma has been needing to let go. 

 

After listening to Jemma’s heart-wrenching cries for a minute, Bobbi pauses.  The S.O. hands her ward a few tissues and Jemma gratefully mops herself up again.  A wheeze can still be heard underneath Jemma’s shaky breaths, and Morse worries that maybe she’s putting Jemma through too much while she’s sick.  Still, she knows that this will benefit Simmons in the end.  She also swore to May that she would discipline Jemma properly from now on, so she’s not about to back out now.

 

With a heavy sigh, Bobbi rubs Jemma’s back with her left hand while her right picks up the dreaded paddle.  “Ok honey, let’s finish up here so that you can get back to bed.  I bet you’re ready to rest now, aren’t you?”

 

Jemma sniffles, tired and worn, and finally nods.

 

Morse nods too and puts firm pressure on Jemma’s back again.  “All right.  You behave and this will all be over with soon,” she reassures her quietly, then raises the paddle and proceeds to land 5 hard swats to Jemma’s dark pink backside.

 

CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK!!

 

Simmons cries out and can’t help but struggle, still more tears cascading down her face.  At the fifth swat she gasps hard… which sends her into a coughing fit.  Bobbi stops immediately, hearing the unpleasant rasping behind the coughs, and pats Simmons firmly on the back.  After some time the coughs subside, and Jemma lays her face in her arms again, completely exhausted by the afternoon’s events.

 

Deciding that she has definitely had enough, Bobbi sets the paddle aside and rubs Jemma’s back, listening to the scientist sniffle and try to catch her breath.  “Are you okay?” Morse asks gently.

 

While she feels a great many things, none of which could be described as ‘okay’, Simmons nods.  Bobbi pats her back again, then gently pulls Jemma’s underwear back into place.  Simmons whines at the pain caused by this action but doesn’t resist.

 

Bobbi looks down at the back of Jemma’s head sadly, then states softly, “Jemma… I’d like to hold you for a minute.  Come here, hon.”

 

Simmons hesitates for just a moment, then shakily pushes herself up.  Bobbi sees that the poor girl’s face is red and blotchy and completely tear-streaked.  She feels that guilty pang at having been the one to cause Simmons so much distress.  She helps Jemma adjust carefully next to her, then guides her ward’s head down to her shoulder and wraps her arms around her.

 

“Is this all right?” she whispers.

 

Jemma sniffles yet again and nods, then adds a quiet, “yes, ma’am.  Th-thank you.”

 

Bobbi melts, as she is prone to do around Jemma, and kisses the top of the girl’s head.  Suddenly Simmons’ crying turns into a wail of despair, and she wraps her arms tightly around Bobbi, as if clinging for dear life.

 

Morse blinks, but holds her close.  “Jemma…?”

 

“I… I’ve always been so-so curious!  And f-fascinated by alien artifacts and-and biology for so long… I never stopped to think… and… and Trip…”  Simmons sobs even harder, becoming barely coherent.  Now that the floodgates are open, the young woman’s emotions seem to be gushing through them.  Jemma coughs hard again around her own hysterics as she mutters, “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

 

Bobbi begins to understand and she squeezes Jemma tight, her heart aching right along with her.  “Oh honey, no… this is not your fault.  Jemma… there were so many factors at play here, all of which were out of your control.  Honey, shhh… this was *not* your fault.”

 

Morse strokes Jemma’s hair and mutters soft words of comfort.  She continues to hold the young woman close to her for about five minutes, until the sniffles have finally started to subside.  Bobbi then pulls away only slightly, feeling that her shirt is soaked through.  She grabs another tissue and gently wipes the tears off Jemma’s warm cheeks. 

 

Morse lifts Jemma’s chin once more to look into her watery eyes.  “You’re going to be okay, Jemma.  We all will.  I know how much it hurts.  We will never, ever forget Trip, or what he did to save Skye.  But you are not responsible… for any of it.  So I want you to put that part behind you,” she encourages gently.  “Try… okay?”

 

Although Simmons looks slightly skeptical at the thought, she manages a small nod.

 

“Good girl,” Morse praises softly.  She hugs Jemma to her once again and places another kiss to the top of her head. 

 

Jemma eventually heaves a great sigh and sits up, wincing.  She sniffles, then glances at the big wet spot on Bobbi’s shirt and groans quietly.  “Oh… Agent Morse, I’m sorry.”

 

But Morse looks down at it too and grins.  “Hey, it’s all right, don’t apologize.  It’s just another responsibility of being an S.O.,” she adds kindly.  Finally she sighs and says, “are you all right?”

 

Jemma nods, looking slightly embarrassed about her meltdown.

 

Bobbi rubs her back soothingly and says, “no, you’re not.  But you will be.  And in the meantime, you can come to me anytime, for support, or just to talk… I hope you know that.”  At Jemma’s small smile and grateful nod, Morse says, “all right honey, let’s get you back into bed.”

 

Simmons starts to rise gingerly, but then remembers.  “Oh… Agent Morse… I-I’m supposed to… to bring the paddle back upstairs,” she says quietly, turning pale again at the thought.

 

Bobbi looks at her carefully.  “Did Agent May tell you to do so?”

 

Simmons nods, wiping her nose with another tissue.  “Yes, ma’am.”

 

Morse sighs at this, but isn’t about to instruct the girl differently than May.  “All right.  How about I come with you?” she suggests, gently pushing Jemma’s damp hair back.  She’s concerned to think that Simmons’ fever may be on the rise again, but then realizes it’s probably wet from all the tears.

 

Simmons considers this, looking up at Bobbi, then nods gratefully. 

 

“Okay,” Morse agrees, and helps Simmons to standing.  She picks up the paddle while Simmons gingerly pulls her pajama pants back on.  Bobbi offers the girl her other hand, with a soft smile.  Jemma accepts it and follows along as Morse leads her out of the bunk, down the corridor, and up the spiral staircase to Coulson’s door.  Once there, Bobbi looks back down into Jemma’s red eyes and says, “it’s going to be okay.  You ready?”

 

Jemma takes another deep, shaky breath and nods, accepting the paddle from Bobbi.

 

Morse nods back, then knocks on the door.

 

May answers, glancing at Bobbi only briefly before fixing her intimidating stare onto Jemma.  Morse feels Jemma physically shutter under that gaze, as she silently holds the paddle back out to May.  Melinda glances down at it, then accepts it, softening her gaze at Simmons slightly.  “Come in,” she says, standing aside for the two women to pass.

 

Simmons remains silent as she enters, her head hanging low.  She doesn’t want to see Coulson’s disappointment in her again, as well.

 

Morse nods to both May and Coulson, then asks quietly, “may I have a word with you both?”

 

Coulson nods, and May looks back to Simmons.  “Jemma, go stand in the corner,” she states simply, pointing across the room.

 

Simmons immediately complies, though the hurt and embarrassment of the instruction show quite plainly on her miserable face. 

 

Once she is out of earshot, Morse quietly tells both May and Coulson how Simmons had been punished and how she seems to be feeling.  She makes sure to include Simmons’ coughing fit at the end and the wheezing that is still prevalent, along with her harrowing emotional breakthrough.  The three high-level agents discuss the situation for a few minutes more until an agreement is made.  Finally, both Morse and May leave the room, and Coulson looks over at the small shape in the corner.

 

“Jemma… come here, please,” he says softly.

 

Simmons quickly wipes a few tears off of her cheeks, turns and walks over to Agent Coulson.  She still finds that she can’t meet his eyes.

 

Coulson looks at her sadly for a moment before saying, “you’re having quite a rough day, aren’t you?”

 

Jemma swallows hard as a fresh tear rolls down her cheek, and nods.  “Y-yes sir.”

 

Coulson nods, sitting down at his desk and thinking hard about how to word what he says next.  “Well… we’ve decided that because you seem to be having so much trouble obeying your S.O.s, we can’t really trust you to be on your own right now.  So, you’re going to be spending the evening in here with me, resting.”

 

Jemma blinks at this, and looks up at Coulson.  She knows that Coulson prefers to be alone in his office, so this really catches her by surprise.  “Director?” she asks in a whisper.

 

Coulson nods again.  “That’s right.  You’re going to spend the evening lying on that couch where I can keep a close eye on you.  You may rest, read or sleep.  Maybe I’ll even let Fitz set you up with a movie, if you’d like,” he adds kindly.  “But you are not, under any circumstances, going to be working.  I’ll see to that myself.”

 

Simmons suddenly finds her lower lip trembling, feeling guilty that they feel she should be monitored like a child.  “Sir… I’m… I’m so sorry.  I really don’t want to bother you.  I promise you, I can rest in my room, you needn’t…”

 

“It’s not up for debate, Jemma,” Coulson states, a bit sternly.  “It’s an order.”  He then surprises the biochemist by stepping forward and wrapping her in his arms.  She slowly returns the embrace, feeling utter gratitude for the patient, understanding man that is her Director. 

 

With that, Coulson gestures toward the couch and Simmons heads over to it. 

 

Agent Morse returns, entering the room with several items in her arms.  She sets Simmons’ pillow on the couch and lays her book on a side table, along with a package of tissues.  She then waits as Jemma gingerly sits down, wincing, and curls up before gently covering her with a soft white blanket.

 

May reenters the room as well, carrying a small tray with Jemma’s reheated tea and a few soft biscuits with honey.  She sets this on the coffee table in front of the couch and Simmons feels her face flush a bit.  She is absolutely not used to being taken care of like this… and also feels she doesn’t deserve this kind of care and attention.

 

May rises and looks at Simmons, her arms crossed.  She knows that Jemma is unusually eager to please and overwhelmingly well-behaved most of the time.  She also knows how much the girl has quietly suffered through lately.  May’s expression softens a bit as she watches the quiet, contrite young woman, and wishes she could offer some comfort.  She walks out to Coulson’s restroom, wets a washcloth and brings it back.  She sits on the edge of the couch right next to Jemma, lifts her chin with a finger, and murmurs, “come here.  You’re a mess,” not unkindly.  Melinda proceeds to run the cool cloth gently over Jemma’s blotchy face, feeling the warmth emanating through it.  Simmons manages a small smile of appreciation.

 

Bobbi hides a smile to herself; it’s new to her to see May being so motherly.  She then leans down and offers Simmons the cup of tea, which Jemma accepts with a, “thank you, ma’am.”  Bobbi smiles at her and nods, then moves away to consult with Coulson about their next plans.

 

While she has her to herself, May looks into Simmons’ eyes and says quietly, “now, you are to stay here and stay quiet, resting.  Don’t bother Coulson.  We’ll be checking in on you, in case you need anything.”

 

Simmons can’t remember ever hearing May speak so softly before.  She nods slowly.  “Yes, ma’am.  Thank you.  I won’t bother him,” she promises, sinking a bit deeper into the couch.

 

May nods her approval.  “Good girl,” she states softly, and rises, leaving quickly.

 

Jemma sips her tea, which is wonderfully soothing both on her throat and her nerves.  She looks up as Agent Morse approaches again, and manages a weak smile.  Bobbi kneels down next to the couch and strokes Jemma’s cheek.  “Hey, honey.  You’re all set here.  Do you need anything else?”

 

Simmons basks a bit in the affection offered to her by the strong, beautiful agent.  She thinks for a moment, setting her teacup down, then says slowly, “umm… well… could I… may I please have my tablet?  I promise I… “

 

Jemma was hoping to maybe listen to music via headphones, or do some puzzles for fun, but before she can explain this Agent Morse gives her a look of utter disbelief and says, “no!  Absolutely not, young lady.”  She rolls Jemma over slightly and plants a firm swat to her very sore backside.

 

Simmons lets out a soft cry, almost like a kitten, and Bobbi melts again.  She shakes her head… “Jemma, I cannot believe you would ask me that.”

 

Simmons opens her mouth quickly to explain, but then gives up, dejectedly.  Bobbi sees tears welling up in the girl’s eyes yet again and she quickly wraps her arms around her, unable to be stern with her anymore.  “Ok, it’s all right.  Shhh… tell you what.  You get some rest now, and later I’ll bring you up some of your amazing sorbet.  If you’ve been good,” she teases.  “How’s that?”

 

Sniffling, completely worn out, Jemma just nods and burrows deeper under her blanket.

 

“Okay,” Bobbi whispers, tucking Simmons in as she would a child.  “You get some sleep.  We’re going to be heading to Portugal.  Apparently an Asgardian… Lady Sif I think is her name… has just popped up there and needs our help.  If you rest and get better, we may let you help from here on the Bus tomorrow.  Maybe.  All right?”

 

Simmons nods eagerly, glad to hear that she may be allowed to help in some way.

 

“Okay.  I’ll see you in a bit.”

 

Simmons nods again, and smiles as Morse leans over and plants a soft kiss on her forehead.  Just before she gets up to leave, Jemma reaches out and takes her hand.  “Agent Morse?”  Bobbi pauses, looking back down at Jemma.

 

“I’m really sorry, that I… I disobeyed you.  I don’t… well, I’m sorry.”

 

Bobbi smiles softly and pats Simmons’ hand.  “I know you are.  It’s all right, hon.  Have a good rest.” 

 

Jemma watches Bobbi leave the room, then sighs and glances up at Coulson.  Coulson was smiling slightly, feeling as ever such a strong affection for this family he has gathered.  Simmons quickly lowers her eyes again.

 

“Jemma?” Coulson begins softly.

 

The scientist glances back up nervously.

 

Coulson smiles at her.  “I’m not upset with you,” he states simply.  “And I don’t mind having you here with me.  Believe it or not, I enjoy your company.”

 

Simmons stares for a moment, then grins sheepishly.  “Oh… thank you, sir.  I’ll-I’ll try not to disturb you.”

 

Coulson nods and gives her a wink, then looks back down at the map he’s been studying.

 

Jemma smiles softly to herself as she snuggles down and gazes out of Coulson’s window at the glorious sunset.  She rubs her aching rear end under the blanket, and is asleep again within minutes.

 

**………………**

 

**Epilogue**

 

A few hours later both Agents Morse and May head up to Coulson’s office to check on their sick little patient.  May carries a mug of broth, while Morse holds a water bottle and a small bowl of sorbet in her hands.  As they climb the stairs and approach the office, they hear gentle laughter coming from the room.  They glance at each other.

 

Melinda and Bobbi enter the room and stop dead in their tracks.  Simmons is sitting up, still wrapped in her blanket, nibbling on a honey biscuit.  Coulson is sitting across the coffee table from her.  The two seem to be having an amusing conversation while playing chess.

 

Morse blinks, while May’s eyes narrow.  “Jemma Simmons!” she states in a firm voice.

 

Both Jemma and Coulson look up quickly, the laugh fading from Simmons’ lips.  “Oh… hello Agent May… Agent Morse,” she says, nervously setting down the biscuit.

 

Coulson smiles at Jemma’s nervousness and moves back a bit as they approach the table.  The agents set the provisions down, but Morse holds onto the sorbet for the time being.

 

May approaches Jemma, her arms crossed.  “What did I tell you about bothering Coulson?” she asks sternly.

 

“Oh…,” Jemma stammers quietly, looking quickly around at all of the Superior Officers.  “Well, I just…”  She looks pleadingly at Coulson for help, but he just looks back at her, stifling a smile.

 

Morse knows that they’re being playful however, and joins in.  She sighs dramatically and scoops up a spoonful of sorbet.  “You know Jemma, I said that I would bring you sorbet if you behaved.  It looks like I may have to eat this after all.”  She sniffs it deeply… “mmm… lemon.”

 

Jemma groans and everyone in the room can see her mouth the word, ‘sorbet’ longingly.

 

Coulson stifles a grin.  In fact, only May seems able to keep a straight, stern face.

 

The Director finally decides to come to Simmons’ rescue.  “Ladies… it was my idea to play.  Jemma took a long nap, drank all of her tea, and is still resting, bundled up.  She has been very, very good,” he adds, with a wink at Jemma.

 

Simmons gives him a grateful smile and glances back up at May.  Melinda stares at the girl, then finally says, “yeah, I know,” unfolding her arms and grinning.

 

Jemma lets out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and chuckles quietly.  Turning back to the chess board, she glances at it only briefly, then happily moves her queen and announces, “checkmate!”

 

She giggles as Coulson groans, then looks up at Bobbi and the sorbet hopefully.  Morse laughs and nods.  “All right, little genius, that deserves some sorbet, I think.”  Morse hands it to her, and Jemma beams.  “Thank you, ma’am,” Simmons says sincerely, looking pointedly up at her S.O.  Bobbi nods, knowing that Jemma is showing gratitude for much more than the dessert.

 

Coulson admits defeat and he and May go to discuss their next plans.  Morse takes Simmons’ temperature once again, and they both smile to see it read 98.7 degrees.  Bobbi then challenges Simmons to another round of chess.  15 minutes later, she too was groaning in defeat.  All was well.

 

**The End**


End file.
